Destiny
by Menthol Pixie
Summary: Set at the beginning of Season 5. Sayid and Hurley try to save Charlie, who doesn't remember them or the Island, from Widmores team who want him dead. They have to return to the Island, but the only way back is through Charlie...
1. Prologue

DESTINY

A/N: Ok, this takes place after Sayid rescues Hurley from the mental hospital, Santa Rosa, but I've had to change it slightly so that their plan is to get back to the Island, no arguments, they just want to go back, because they know they need to go back.

Prologue

At first Sayid thought that he had misheard Ben. Maybe the line was faulty, or maybe the battery on his phone was dying. Maybe there was traffic in the background that had distorted his words. Then, after asking Ben to repeat himself, Sayid had figured that it was some kind of sick mind game, the type that Ben loved to play.

"You'll have to repeat that one more time," Sayid said through clenched teeth, gripping his cell phone tighter. He glanced over at Hurley, sitting in the passenger seat eating a bucket of fried chicken, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that Sayid had just received a phone call from the man who was supposed to be their enemy.

"I said," Ben started again, his voice crackling in Sayids ear, "That before you can go back, you need to get Charlie."

Sayid turned his back to Hurley slightly and held the phone closer to his mouth.

"Charlie is dead," he hissed.

Sayid could almost see Bens face curling up into a smile. He could hear it in his voice.

"Charlie lives at 42 Northwood Street."

"You are lying," Sayid said baldly.

"Go and see for yourself," Ben said lightly, as if it barely concerned him.

"What will I find?" Sayid asked suspiciously.

"If you're not too late, and Widmore's people haven't gotten there first, you'll find Charlie, but Sayid… he wont remember you."

Sayid pulled the phone away and took a deep breath. He returned the phone to his ear.

"Suppose I believed you, why would Widmore be after Charlie?"

"You said yourself that he's meant to be dead."

"Dude, did you just say Charlie?"

Hurley was staring at Sayid, a piece of chicken in his hand, paused.

Sayid opened his mouth to say something but Ben was talking again.

"Sayid," he said warningly, "I'd hurry."

The line went dead.

A/N: The first chapter will be up as soon as I have time to type it up. Review people! Reviews motivate me to type faster. 


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: I didn't think I'd get this up this fast, but my son is getting a cold I think, so I probably wont have time for any writing in the next few days while I look after him, and I wanted to get this up. Hope you enjoy. R&R.

Destiny

Chapter One

Sayid knocked on the door at 42 Northwood Street. Hurley held his breath, listening. They waited for a long moment. At first there was nothing, and then, the sound of muffled footsteps. A lock was turned and the door opened a few inches.

"Yeah?" came a guarded voice from inside. It sounded young, male and unmistakably familiar. Hurley recognized it instantly.

"Charlie?" he asked, trying to keep the awe and excitement from his voice.

"Yeah?" The voice asked again.

Sayid glanced warningly at Hurley, although his own eyes were filled with wonder.

"Charlie Pace?" Sayid pressed.

There was a pause, and then the door opened wider and Charlie stood in front of them. He was wearing faded jeans and an oversized black hoodie. His hair was a little longer than it had been but he was still so similar to the Charlie that they had known on the Island that Sayid and Hurley were left speechless, overwhelmed by the impossibility of what they were seeing.

Charlie frowned at the two men on his doorstep.

"Listen," he said wearily, "If you're fans or reporters, I don't do autographs and I don't do interviews."

This struck Hurley as odd. The Charlie he had known had always jumped at the chance to talk about his band, but before Hurley could think any more about it, Charlie started to shut the door.

"Wait!" Hurley cried, throwing his hand out to stop the door. He was gripped by a sudden fear that Charlie would close the door and be gone. That he'd never see him again.

Charlie blinked in surprise at Hurley's outburst. He wavered uncertainly.

"Actually," Sayid said calmly, casting a warning look at Hurley, "We're old friends of yours. Could we come in for a moment?"

Charlie looked at the pair of them doubtfully.

"You're not cops, are you?"

Sayid smiled wryly, "No, I assure you, we are not."

Charlie finally relented, opening the door fully so that Sayid and Hurley could step inside.

"Through there." Charlie motioned to a doorway on the left of the hall, before shutting the front door and turning the lock.

"Thank you," Sayid said politely as he passed into the room.

It was sparsely furnished, just a couch and armchair, a coffee table and TV. The carpet was stained with spills. A guitar case stood propped up in the corner. The table was cluttered with old tea cups, notebooks and crumpled pieces or paper covered in Charlie's scribbly handwriting and guitar chords.

Charlie quickly shifted some pages and books to one side to make room on the table. Sayid watched him carefully.

"Um… tea?" Charlie asked.

"No, thank you," Sayid answered for both him and Hurley. Hurley was still staring at Charlie.

Charlie sat down on the armrest of the armchair while Sayid and Hurley took seats on the threadbare couch.

Sayid leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and cradling his chin with his hands. He stared at the coffee table, deep in thought. There was a long moment of awkward silence.

"So… where do you know me from then?" Charlie asked finally.

Hurley opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself and bit his lip. He looked to Sayid.

"Oh dude, I don't know where to start. You're gonna have to take this one."

Sayid inhaled deeply and looked up from the table. Charlie was looking at him expectantly, perplexed.

"We were good friends once," Sayid began, "We met…"

Sayid trailed off. How do you explain to someone that they are your dead friend and they just don't remember? Sayid couldn't even explain it to himself. He decided to simply plunge right in. There seemed to be no other way.

"You don't remember this Charlie, but three years ago, we were in a plane crash together. Oceanic Flight 815."

His words hung in the air.

Charlie smiled uncertainly, obviously trying to work out if this was meant to be a joke.

"I think I'd remember being in a plane crash."

"Yes, you would think so. But the island we crashed on… it wasn't an ordinary place."

Sayid was aware that his explanation was weak. He paused trying to find a better way to make Charlie understand but time dragged on and he was unable to think properly when so many questions of his own were swirling around in his head. How long had Ben known about this? Had someone rescued Charlie from the Looking Glass? How was it that he had no memory of the Island?

"The Island had, like, polar bears in the jungle," Hurley offered. "And… a monster…"

Charlie's eyes widened. "Oh of course," he said sarcastically, "_That_ island, the one with the monsters. Yeah, sure, I remember that."

Charlie rolled his eyes and stood up. "Look, I don't know you - "

"Dude," Hurley spoke up, "Your name is Charlie Pace. You have some ridiculous middle name that you could never teach me how to spell. You have a tattoo on your shoulder – I forget which one – but it says 'Living is easy with eyes closed'. You sing You All Everybody under your breath when you're thinking…"

Hurley trailed off, trying to think of more things he could say to convince his old friend but most of his knowledge of Charlie had to do with things he'd done on the Island. Charlie had always spoken very little about his life before the plane crash.

However, Hurley's list seemed to be enough to keep Charlie interested for the moment and he slowly sat back down.

Sayid spoke again. "Unfortunately there isn't time to explain everything properly. You'll have to trust us."

Sayid caught the doubtful look in Charlie's eyes but ignored it, carrying on.

"There is a man. His name is Charles Widmore." Sayid now glanced at Hurley, "We have reason to believe that this man has sent people after you. We believe that you are in danger."

Charlie gazed at them, now looking distinctly uneasy.

"What are you, like, escaped mental patients playing James Bond?"

Sayid flicked Hurley an almost imperceptible smile.

"No Charlie, what I am saying is very real."

Charlie shook his head, "I think you should leave."

"Charlie - "

"No!" Charlie said, losing his temper and getting to his feet again, "Get out of my house. I have… things to do. I don't want to sit around talking to nutters."

Charlie rubbed his arms unconsciously and glanced briefly down at the table.

Sayid followed his gaze. He sighed.

"Do you need a fix, Charlie?"

Charlie started, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"What?"

"When we came in, you moved some books so that they would hide the syringes that you have on the table."

Sayid shifted the books to the side and picked up a clear plastic bag filled with brown powder that had been sitting next to two syringes. He held it up between his fingers.

Hurley looked at Charlie, disappointment written on his face.

"Oh dude, I thought you quit."

Charlie looked to Hurley.

"You don't even know me!" he said indignantly, feeling a rush of blood to his face. "Give them back."

"Dude - "

"Give them back and get out!"

"We can't leave, Charlie, this is too important." Sayid pocketed the baggie.

Charlie let out a cry of outrage.

"Give them back Sayid!"

Charlie took a step towards the Arab man, then stopped abruptly, looking confused. Sayid and Hurley sat up straighter, the three of them realizing the significance of Charlie's words at the same time.

Sayid fixed his eyes on Charlies.

"We never told you our names."

"You must have," Charlie said, but doubt was heavy in his voice and he was regarding the two men with a kind of bewildered suspicion.

"You know us," Sayid pressed. "You know what we're saying is true."

Charlie looked from Hurley to Sayid, then back again. The faintest flicker of recognition appeared in his eyes.

"Did we go fishing together once?" he asked hesitantly.

Hurley's face brightened, bursting into a smile at Charlie's small half-recollected memory.

"Yeah!" he started excitedly, but didn't get any further.

Sayid was on his feet in a flash. The soft click of the lock on Charlie's front door was almost inaudible but all three of them heard it. Sayid, Hurley and Charlie looked towards the door to the hallway. It was wide open, inviting company.

Charlie opened his mouth to say something but the words died on his lips as soon as he looked back at Sayid and took in the gun he now held in his hand.

Charlie sank down into the armchair as if his legs had given out from under him.

Sayid moved, catlike, making no sound, until he was between Charlie and the door. He held the gun ready.

Looking to Hurley, Charlie saw that he too was armed, standing up, but he looked a lot less comfortable with his weapon.

It was too much, Charlie thought. It's one thing to sit in a room with two madmen and listen to them tell stories about polar bears and monsters, but it's a completely different thing when those two loons pull out guns.

Soft footsteps were now moving up the hallway, closer and closer to the door. Charlie shut his eyes.

A moment passed in silence, and then all was shattered by a blast that made Charlie jump a foot in the air. His eyes flew open in time to see a body fall face down on his carpet with a sickening thud.

Sayid ran quickly from the room and returned a moment later.

"He was alone," he reported, "But we have to go. Quickly."

Charlie got to his feet shakily and slowly approached the body. He couldn't see its face but it looked to be a young man, with closely cropped dark hair, dressed in black clothes. Charlie could see the exit wound where the bullet had torn through his body.

"You just killed someone," Charlie said weakly.

"Yes," said Sayid blandly, "It's lucky for you that I was here. Now we have to get moving."

Charlie tore his gaze away from the grim sight on the floor and stared at Sayid incredulously.

"Get moving?! What? Me… go with you?!" Charlie raked his hands through his hair, "You just bloody killed someone! You're both bloody nuts! You can't…"

Charlie trailed off as Sayid crouched down and pried a gun from the dead mans hand.

"You see this gun?" Sayid held it up. Charlie's eyes followed it.

"That man would have used this to shoot you."

Sayid leant forward and pulled something out of the corpses belt.

"Or maybe he would have used this knife."

Charlie shrank back against the wall and Sayid saw fear in his eyes, but it was misdirected. Charlie was more afraid of him than of the man on the floor.

Sayid stood up, sticking the gun into the waistband of his pants and willing away the sinking feeling in his stomach.

"We need to go now," he instructed.

Charlie shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"More of these men will come!" Sayid said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. "They will keep coming until you are dead. There is no time to argue about this."

Charlie stared back at him defiantly. Despite his irritation Sayid felt a rush of warmth at the sight of his friend standing there like that. He had missed Charlie's stubbornness.

Quickly however, he pushed his own feelings aside. There was not time for reminiscence. He had to get Charlie to safety.

"Charlie, I am your friend and I don't want to hurt you, but if you make me use force, I will."

"Hey," Hurley jumped into the conversation, "Man, that's not cool. It's Charlie."

"And Charlie doesn't understand the danger he is in."

Sayid met Charlie's determined gaze with his own. Charlie faltered slightly, his eyes moving to the weapons in Sayids waistband. He looked helplessly around the room, realizing that he was trapped. There was no way out. His gaze lingered in the corner for a moment.

Charlie looked back at Sayid, a new determination in his eyes.

"I'm not leaving without my guitar," he said, expecting the Iraqi man to argue, but to his surprise Sayid just smiled.

"I wouldn't have expected you to," Sayid said.


	3. Chapter 2

Destiny

Chapter Two

Sayid, Hurley and Charlie were in a motel room. It was slightly shabby and a bit run down but Sayid had decided that it would do.

They had loaded Charlie, and his guitar, into the back seat of Sayids dark blue station wagon and driven for nearly two hours.

The first half of the journey had been silent and Hurley had spent much of it simply gazing at Charlie in the rear view mirror, afraid to look away in case Charlie vanished as if he was just a dream, but Charlie didn't vanish. Hurley watched Charlie grow increasingly agitated, rubbing his arms with shaking hands and then start to rock back and forth, until he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Dude, Charlie doesn't look so good."

Sayid glanced back at Charlie.

"It's the heroin leaving his system."

Charlie looked imploringly at Hurley.

"I need it," he pleaded.

Hurley squirmed in his seat.

"You gave it up before. You can do it again."

Charlie dropped his head, hugging himself tighter.

"I never gave it up," he moaned. "I can't give it up."

"You have. You just… don't remember," Hurley comforted awkwardly.

As darkness grew around them Charlie fell into a restless sleep. Hurley sat staring at the road ahead.

"This doesn't feel right," he said finally, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb Charlie's rest.

Sayid didn't take his eyes off the road.

"What do you mean?"

Hurley frowned at him, "We just, like, kidnapped Charlie."

Sayid swallowed his own guilt.

"It's for his own good," he said.

Now Sayid was pacing back and forth in the small motel room, occasionally pulling the curtains back a little to gaze out into the darkness.

Hurley stared at the TV from the couch, seemingly engrossed.

Charlie was watching Sayid from under his hood, huddled up at the other end of the couch.

"So you're serious about all this stuff then?" he asked through chattering teeth, breaking the tension that had hung heavy over the room.

Sayid looked at Charlie. The poor kid looked like Hell, shaking uncontrollably, curled in on himself. Sayid wondered how he hadn't noticed Charlie going through his first withdrawal on the Island, but then, with a sinking feeling, he remembered that no one on the Island had taken much notice of Charlie. He had been constantly overlooked by the people he had given his life for.

Sayid looked back out the window, suddenly finding himself unable to look at Charlie.

"Yes," he said simply.

"But why would people be after me?" Charlie asked, "I haven't… done anything."

Hurley looked away from the TV and glanced at Sayid. The Iraqi still had his back to them and Hurley could see the tension in his shoulders.

"Because you're not supposed to be here," Sayid said darkly.

"Well why did you bring me here then?" Charlie pressed, exasperated, sick of not understanding.

Sayid made no sign that he was going to answer. Hurley bit his lip.

"He means, you're not supposed to be anywhere," he said tentatively, "Because you're dead, dude."

Charlie turned his hooded head towards Hurley and stared at him wordlessly for a moment, then he lowered his head again and hugged himself tighter as another wave of cold shakes crashed over him.

"Brilliant," he muttered. "Today just keeps getting better and better."

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"I brought you some aspirin."

Charlie opened his eyes and looked up. Sayid was standing over him holding a glass of water in one hand and two small white pills in the other. He closed his eyes again.

"What's aspirin going to do?" he asked bitterly.

Sayid set the glass and aspirin down on the small bedside table and surveyed Charlie with searching eyes. He was different to the Charlie that Sayid remembered, and yet so much the same. Sayid had caught flashes of the same sarcastic humour, the same stubborn determination. But Sayid could also see the track marks on this young mans arm, the hurt and frightened look in his eyes. He was alone, lost, in the throes of an addiction, hurtling towards self-destruction. Sayid wondered if this was how Charlie had been before the Island, and whether it was actually possible for him to become the Charlie that had once been his friend. Here was Charlie, in front of him, but not the same Charlie that he had known. Sayid mourned the Charlie he had lost.

Charlie opened his eyes again, as if checking whether Sayid was still there. Seeing that he was, Charlie pulled himself up so that he was leaning against the wall. He twisted the thin bed sheet in his hands.

"I need it back," he pleaded. "The heroin. I _need_ it."

Sayid sighed. He sat himself down on the edge of Charlie's bed.

"You don't need it, Charlie. I believe you are stronger than you think. You are one of the bravest men I have ever met."

Charlie groaned in frustration.

"You've never met me," he insisted. "You don't know anything about me."

Sayid looked at him sympathetically. "You cannot have the drugs back," he said, firmly but gently.

Charlie bowed his head dejectedly. Sayid reached out a hand to touch Charlie's shoulder comfortingly, but before he could make contact Charlie pounced, with more speed than could be expected from someone in the midst of heroin withdrawal. It took Sayid by surprise and he crashed to the ground with Charlie on top of him.

For a stunned moment, Sayid did nothing but take in the wild look in Charlie's eyes, then he realized that Charlie's hands were already on the gun in his waistband. That was all it took for Sayid to take control of his senses. Charlie was no match for him in a fight, and in his bid for the weapon he had neglected to pin Sayids arms.

Sayid reached down, grasped Charlie's wrist tight and twisted sharply. Charlie let out a cry but his hand still held desperately onto the gun.

Using his other hand, Sayid shoved Charlie off of him and rolled over so that he was now on top, one of his knees on Charlie's chest, his hand still twisting Charlie's wrist roughly in an attempt to get him to release the weapon.

Charlie struggled wildly, fighting dirty, his free hand scratching and hitting blindly, until Sayid caught hold of it and pinned it down on the floor. Charlie tightened his grip on the gun.

"Let go, Charlie!" Sayid ordered, "I don't want to hurt you."

Charlie clenched his teeth, his knuckles white.

Sayid increased the pressure of his knee on Charlie's chest, pressing down just hard enough to make breathing slightly difficult, and finally, with an anguished, pain filled cry, Charlie relinquished his grip and the gun fell to the floor.

Sayid grabbed it immediately and pointed it at Charlie.

"Don't move," he warned, and he pulled himself to his feet. Charlie lay panting on the floor, scowling up at him.

Sayid moved to the door of the room before he returned his gun to his waistband. He was slightly out of breath himself from the adrenaline rush of the unexpected assault.

"I am trying to help you, Charlie," he said evenly. "Do not try that again."

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Three horrible days followed for Charlie. He had given up any hope of escape as the withdrawal grew more vicious. He was forced to lie in bed, feverish and trembling violently, now burning up, now freezing cold, and he had to rely on his captors for everything – something he resented deeply. For their credit however, he found they treated him well, as if he really was a long lost friend of theirs. Charlie would often wake up and find the one named Hurley sitting beside his head, watching over him.

On the third day, when Charlie woke to find him there, chatting idly about comic books, Charlie decided to talk back.

"Hurley?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Hurley answered, a grin spreading on his face. It was the first time Charlie had called him by his name..

Charlie shifted so that he was lying on his side, one arm under his head.

"When you said I died… how did it happen?"

Hurley's smile disappeared instantly.

"Oh man… I don't think…"

"I want to know," Charlie demanded. "You shot a guy in my house, abducted me, locked me up in this room, and took away my stash. At least tell me what _supposedly_ happened."

Hurley grimaced. He closed his eyes, thinking back to the day Charlie went down to the Looking Glass. How Desmond came back alone. How the absence of Charlie in the days that followed felt like a gaping hole inside of him. How sometimes he would forget and find himself looking around for his friend, only for the realization to hit like a kick to his stomach.

Hurley shook his head and got to his feet. He stumbled to the door, blinking back tears.

"Hey!" Charlie called after him. "Are you gonna tell me or what?"

Hurley paused in the doorway and looked back at Charlie.

"You died to save us," he choked out, and then all but ran from the room, escaping the memories.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"I'm going out."

Sayid merely glanced at Charlie.

"No."

"You can't tell me what to do," Charlie argued, although his eyes shifted nervously to Sayids gun.

"Charlie, we've been over this."

"I don't care!" Charlie persisted, "I'm going crazy shut up in here. You said I wasn't a prisoner, so I should be allowed to go out."

Hurley rose from the couch, "I'll go with him," he offered.

"No!" Charlie snapped, and quickly regretted it when he saw the hurt look on Hurleys face. "I mean… I just want to be alone for a while."

"Charlie - "

"I'm not going to leave the motel grounds."

Sayid sighed. He had to remind himself how much he had missed Charlie's stubbornness.

"Be back in ten minutes."

Charlie nodded and was out the door before Sayid could change his mind.

Hurley raised his eyebrows. "Dude, you're just gonna let him go?"

"Of course not." Sayid tucked his gun into his belt. "I'm going to follow him. Stay here. And keep the door locked."

Sayid slipped out into the dim evening light, closing the door silently behind him.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Charlie walked slowly, breathing in the fresh air. He felt like he had been stuck inside for a long, long time, and, although still a little shaky, he was glad that he had won the argument with Sayid.

He thought briefly of making a run for it, but, if he was honest with himself, he had no where to go. There was a dead man in his house, and if he was to believe what Sayid and Hurley were telling him, there were others after him. Maybe they were just nuts, but sometimes when Charlie looked at them he got a creeping sense of de'ja vu, as if he had known them in a past life.

Charlie shook his head slightly. The withdrawal was messing with his head, making it hard to think clearly. He sat down next to the motel swimming pool, wishing he had thought to bring his guitar.

He'd only been sitting there for a moment, looking out over the calm, clear water, when he heard footsteps behind him. Probably the Iraqi, Sayid. Charlie turned to tell him to go away.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Sayid saw the man run at Charlie. He saw Charlie turn at the last minute, before they collided and the two of them plunged forward into the swimming pool, disappearing under the surface.

Sayid ran. There was no time for a plan but Sayid did well thinking on his feet. He leapt into the pool without a moment's hesitation. He found a handful of dark hair and pulled up hard. An elbow flew up and hit him in the face and he lost his grip.

A head appeared above the surface, spitting water through a snarl. The man threw his head forward so that his forehead connected with Sayids nose. Sayid felt a rush of warm blood. He threw a punch at the mans jaw but the man recovered quickly. The man threw a punch of his own and Sayid quickly ducked under the water to evade it.

Sayid grabbed at the mans hands. They were clamped onto Charlies shoulders like a vice, holding him under the water. Sayids own hands brushed against Charlies, both of them scrabbling desperately to release the mans grip. Sayid could feel the water churning as Charlie struggled.

Sayid felt a blow to his head and saw stars for a moment. He burst back to the surface, slamming his fist into his opponents nose. He felt it break against his fingers. The man recoiled with a hiss and Sayid ducked back under, reaching again for the hands on Charlies shoulders. A cold panic hit him suddenly as he realized that Charlie was no longer struggling. Clenching his teeth, Sayid reached down to his ankle where he kept his knife strapped to him. There was no longer any time to continue this fight. It had to be over with now.

Sayid resurfaced. The other man met his eyes with a victorious smirk. He never saw Sayids clenched fist come flying up, embedding the knife cleanly into his throat.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Charlie could hear his blood rushing in his ears. He felt like he was spiraling downwards into an abyss. He struggled to think but there was nothing. There was only darkness, complete and total. Muffled voices came to him, snatches of conversation that he didn't understand. Then came images, faces flashing in front of him, trees, a beach, so many people, a flashing light. Inexplicably, a Beach Boys song came into his head, and he saw himself holding his hand up to a window. It felt like he was saying goodbye.

The images started to fade, slowly disintegrating into nothing. Charlie felt like he was floating away. It was all very calm and quiet. Charlie let himself fall into it.

Then he felt pressure on his chest, over and over, jolting him away from the darkness. Suddenly he was choking and retching, trying simultaneously to fill his lungs with air and expel the water from them.

A voice was speaking in soothing tones and a hand was rubbing his back. Memories came flooding into his brain and Charlie forced his eyes open, still struggling for breath.

Sayids face swam in front of him. Charlie grasped his wrist.

"I drowned," he gasped. "On the Island, I drowned."

A/N: Man, that took me forever to type out. Hope you all enjoyed. Not sure when the next chapter will be up. Me, my partner and my son have all been sick so everything kind of slows down, and my brain turns to mush. Need more sleep!!! Review my lovely's! It'll make me feel better. *coughs pathetically*


	4. Chapter 3

**Destiny**

**A/N: I'm trying to take my time with posting this chapter cos… I haven't written the one that comes after it yet. And I don't want to get stuck and make you guys wait for AGES. I'm having a bit of trouble with it but I think I'll get it soon enough. Hope you guys enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I haven't done one of these for my last few fics but I thought I may as well. So, don't own Lost, etc etc. If I **_**was**_** a writer for Lost, these things would have happened on the show.**

Chapter Three

Hurley heard the lock on the door turning. He wasn't entirely happy about being left alone, and now he wished that he had suggested to Sayid that they have some kind of secret knock to let him know that it was Sayid about to barge through the door and not a group of armed ninjas, or something like that.

Hurley stood, picking up the nearest object – a small lamp which he doubted would do any real damage, but he held it aloft anyway.

The door swung open and Sayid steered Charlie into the room, one hand protectively holding onto his upper arm, both of them dripping wet. Sayid paused in the doorway, scanning left and right before he closed the door and double checked the lock.

"Dude, did you guys take a swim?" Hurley asked, thoroughly puzzled.

"Hurley!"

Hurley suddenly found himself pulled into a tight, damp hug. Taken by surprise, the suppressed memory of his last hug with Charlie streamed back into his head. He remembered how he'd been almost as surprised as now, thinking that Charlie wasn't a hug-y type of person, and then later, the awful realization of what that hug had meant; That Charlie had known that he was going away to die, that this was the last time they would see each other, that Charlie had been saying goodbye.

Hurley pushed these memories aside and just allowed himself to hug Charlie back.

"I remember!" Charlie was babbling. "I remember you!"

Sayid snapped them out of their reunion. He was already by the door, his gun ready in one hand, holding out Charlies guitar case in the other.

"We have to go now."

Hurley found himself once again going with the flow, following Sayid to the car, even though he had no idea what had happened. All he knew was that Charlie was back, really back. Hurley decided he didn't even care why his friends were soaking wet.

Hurley and Charlie climbed into the back seat. Sayid slid into the drivers seat and started the engine. They were barely out of the car park before Charlie started off again.

"I remember!" he rambled excitedly, "I remember everything. You and Sayid and the plane crash and the Island. All of it!"

He paused for a moment, looking perplexed.

"But…" He looked down at himself, as if surprised that his body was actually there, "How?"

"We were hoping you could tell us that," Sayid said, looking at him in the rear view mirror.

Charlie sat back in his seat, closing his eyes.

"I remember the Looking Glass… and the water… going over my head… it's not Penny's boat…"

Charlies voice faded and Hurley looked at him with concern. Charlie suddenly seemed disconnected. Leaning over Hurley shook Charlie lightly.

"Dude, stay with us."

Charlie opened his eyes and gave his head a little shake.

"I don't know," he said, "Everything's kind of hazy until you two showed up."

Charlie looked despairingly at the track marks on his arm.

"I guess heroin will do that."

Charlie looked downcast for a moment, and then quickly snapped himself out of it as if remembering something.

"But it worked, right?" Charlie grasped Hurleys arm urgently. "I unblocked the signal and everyone got rescued?"

Hurley felt his stomach squirm guiltily.

"Well… kinda."

"What to you mean, kinda? You're here." Charlie insisted. "Everyone got rescued, right?"

Hurley cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, it's like… seven of us did. Eight, if you count Frank, who was the helicopter pilot, but you wouldn't know him 'cause you were kind of… dead… at the time."

Charlie disregarded Hurleys rambling.

"Who got rescued?"

Hurley hesitated, "Well… me and Sayid of course, Jack, Kate, Sun, Desmond, and…" Hurley cringed, "Aaron."

"What about Claire?" Charlie asked, frowning.

Hurley looked helplessly at Sayid, who seemed to be concentrating intently on the road. Hurley couldn't meet Charlie's eye.

"She's still on the Island, dude."

Hurley half expected Charlie to hit him and berate him for leaving Claire behind, but Charlie just sunk back in his seat looking crestfallen.

"I'm sorry, man."

Charlie sat silent and motionless for a while. Finally he leant forward towards Sayid.

"How do we get back?" he asked, his face set in a grim mask of determination.

Sayid glanced sideways at him.

"That's what we're trying to find out."

Charlie thought for a moment.

"We need to find Desmond," he said decisively, and with that, a bullet shattered the rear windscreen.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Glass rained down on them, and Sayid flung out an arm to push Charlie back down in his seat.

"Get down!" he shouted, pressing his foot flat on the accelerator.

He had no time to check whether Charlie and Hurley were ok. Instead, he glanced quickly in the rearview mirror. It reflected a large four wheel drive with tinted windows, only a few meters behind them. Sayid caught a glimpse of the muzzle of a gun peaking out the passengers window.

He swung the wheel violently to the left, turning into a smaller side street. There were no other cars in sight.

The four wheel drive followed, and, with a sudden burst of speed, rammed hard into the back of the car, jerking them all forwards.

Sayid pressed his foot harder on the accelerator, pulling away from their pursuers. He swerved erratically. He could hear shots being fired. A bullet smashed the wing mirror next to him.

Sayid swung the steering wheel again, as hard as he could, bracing himself. The car rose up on two wheels and for one horrible moment Sayid thought that he had misjudged and that the car was going to flip, but then it thudded back down onto the concrete, spinning 180 degrees so that it was now facing the pursuing vehicle.

Sayid slammed his foot down on the brake. He grabbed his gun and pulled himself up so that he was sitting on the window frame, leaning out the window. He took aim and fired.

The cars windscreen smashed with his first shot, splintering and cracking. What stayed intact was so shattered that it effectively left the driver blind.

Sayid fired again and again, as the four wheel drive sped closer and closer, towards a head on collision. Sayid aimed lower and shot. The left wheel burst and the car veered sharply off the road, slamming into a lamppost with a thunderous crunch.

Sayid slid back into the drivers seat and put his foot back down on the accelerator.

Hurley straightened himself up in the backseat and turned to Charlie. His face paled.

"Oh dude, you're bleeding."

Charlie groaned. He was still bent over, one hand clutching his right shoulder. His hooded sweatshirt was torn and dark red blood was seeping through the fabric.

Sayid looked over his shoulder.

"Is it a bullet or glass?"

Hurley pulled Charlies hoodie down, forcing himself to look. He felt his stomach flip.

"Oh man, it's a bullet."

"Find something to stop the bleeding," Sayid ordered, his eyes fixed on the road as he thought quickly.

Hurley hesitated.

"Do it, Hurley!"

"Oh man," Hurley muttered, pulling his gaze away from the blood. He searched for something to hold over the wound. He found an old t-shirt, slightly dirty, balled up down by his feet. He grasped a hold of Charlies arm and pressed the t-shirt down over the blood.

Charlie cried out and tried to jerk back instinctively but Hurley held tight. Charlie scrunched his eyes closed.

"Aha!" Sayid found what he was looking for and turned into the car park of a 24 hour liquor store. He parked as far from the entrance as possible, keeping the beat-up car away from the bright lights.

"Wait here," he ordered, climbing out of the car, "And keep pressure on it."

Hurley looked confused, "What-?"

Sayid was already gone. He returned quickly, carrying a bottle of spirits in a brown paper bag.

"Um, dude," Hurley said as Sayid climbed in and started the engine again. "I don't think this is the best time to get drunk."

"No," Charlie disagreed through clenched teeth, his eyes still shut, "I think this is a brilliant time to get drunk."

Sayid allowed himself a small smile.

"It's not for drinking."

Charlie groaned.

"This is going to be like the time you set my head on fire, isn't it?"


	5. Chapter 4

**Destiny**

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. And to Lin_Hades, the scene where Sayid sets Charlies head on fire (kind of) is in Exodus, the season one finale (can't remember which part, of the top of my head), and this story starts near the beginning of Season Five and then goes AU. Thanks for reviewing!**

**This chapter's a bit longer than the others, so please bare with me.**

**Chapter Four**

Charlie winced as Sayid cleaned the wound with the alcohol, rechecking his stitches.

"There," Sayid said, "That should be alright now."

"Easy for you to say," Charlie muttered, moving his arm tentatively and flinching.

"Is the blood gone yet?" Hurley asked tensely, standing with his back to Sayid and Charlie.

Sayid packed away his equipment. "Yes, Hurley, it's fine now."

Hurley turned back to them and watched as Sayid bandaged Charlies arm.

"We still have to find Desmond," Charlie said.

"Why?" Sayid asked.

Hurley knelt down next to Charlie.

"This is because he can, like, see the future, isn't it?"

Sayid frowned, "What do you mean?"

Hurley ignored him. He spoke only to Charlie.

"He told you, didn't he? He told you that you were going to die in the Looking Glass."

Sayid looked at Charlie questioningly but Charlie avoided both his and Hurleys gaze.

"Yeah," he admitted. "He told me."

Hurley was stunned, even though this was what he had expected.

"But… why did you do it then?" he asked, "Why did you offer to go down there?"

Charlie shifted awkwardly, "Des said… he said that if I didn't die, there wouldn't be any rescue."

Sayid and Hurley stared at him in wonder, overwhelmed by the reality of Charlies sacrifice. Finally Sayid shook his head.

"You are a hero, Charlie."

Charlie smiled slightly, his eyes suddenly distant.

"A woman told me that once," he remembered, "After I saved her from a mugger."

Sayid nodded. "She was right. Lets find Desmond.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

_The Island was exactly the same as Hurley remembered it, and he knew where he was immediately. It took him another moment to realize that he wasn't supposed to be on the Island. He was supposed to be in a hotel room with Sayid and Charlie, not alone in the jungle._

_Hurley looked around himself. There was nothing but trees and shrubs, what seemed like a million different shades of green, and the disconcerting sense of being watched._

_"Hello, Hugo."_

_Hurley spun around._

_Locke was standing between two trees, watching his calmly. Hurley stared at him. He was positive that Locke hadn't been there a moment ago._

_"How-?" he started but Locke held up a hand to stop him._

_"There's no time. You need to find Desmond."_

_"But what-?"_

_"Tell Desmond that the only way back is Charlie."_

_Hurley held up his hands helplessly, "But Desmond's, like, on a boat somewhere… I think."_

_Locke smiled slightly and Hurley saw his eyes change. Now one was black and one was white._

_"Try looking in LA harbour. Our Mutual Friend."_

_"Ok, dude, if you're on the Island, how do you know where Desmond is?"_

_"If you listen, the Island will tell you what you need to know."_

_Hurley was trying to think of a reply to this when Locke suddenly looked up towards the sky. There was a strange ringing sound and Hurley shielded his eyes from the sudden bright white light. A sudden swirl of images came to him faster than his mind could remember them – the ocean, sparkling in the sunlight, Desmond on a yacht, blood in the water, on the deck…_

_"Good luck, Hugo."_

Hurley shot up in bed, Locke's final words echoing in his head.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Hurley looked around frantically. Slowly the vivid reality of his dream faded and he realized that he was in a hotel room.

Sayid and Charlie were staring at him. The sky outside was beginning to grey with the oncoming daylight.

Hurley caught his breath.

"Desmond's at LA harbour," he informed his two friends, as he climbed out of bed and began pulling on his shoes.

Sayid climbed out after him. "How do you know?"

Hurley paused. "Uh… Locke told me?"

Sayid frowned. "When?"

Hurley hesitated. "Just now?" he offered sheepishly.

Sayid shook his head. "So we are following your advice based on a dream you have had?" he asked skeptically, one eyebrow quirked.

Hurley bit his lip.

Charlie rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

"Of course we are," he said. "Isn't that what we always do?"

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Penny looked out over the calm waters, relishing the feel of the light breeze running over her body. Seagulls circled in the sky and she watched them. She would never grow tired of the ocean.

Turning back to the mainland, Penny raised a hand to shade the sun out of her eyes.

"There's three strange looking men coming along the wharf," she remarked to Desmond as he came up from the cabin.

Desmond spun around to look. His time on the Island, and off, had taught him to never let his guard down. Everyone was a possible threat and should be regarded with suspicion.

The first person he recognized was Hurley. He was hard to miss, big, with curly hair, looking weary. Next to him was Sayid, looking alert and on edge as the group approached. And then…

Desmond froze. His face drained of colour and he stood, openmouthed and unable to move.

Charlie glared at him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Charlie stated, and before anyone knew what was happening, Charlie had jumped onto the deck of Desmond's yacht and punched him hard across the face.

"Hey!" Penny cried indignantly.

Sayid jumped nimbly into the deck and pulled Charlie back.

"Let go!" Charlie yelled angrily, struggling to free himself from Sayids firm hands, "He lied to me! He told me Claire would be rescued!"

"Calm down!" Sayid ordered. "You'll pop your stitches."

Desmond stood still, one hand pressed to his stinging cheek, but he felt the pain in a sort of vague, detached way. He was aware that Penny was at his side, fussing over him, trying to get a look at his face but he couldn't stop staring at Charlie, who was now yelling at Sayid.

"Charlie?" he stammered.

Penny looked from Desmond to the young man being restrained.

"Charlie?" she asked Desmond curiously, "_The_ Charlie? But you said…"

She trailed off, looking utterly bewildered.

Desmond shook his head.

"How?" he asked, "I saw you drown, brother."

Charlie was still glaring at him.

"You lied to him," he accused Desmond as he made another failed attempt to pull away from Sayid.

"Daddy?"

The group paused, the tension hanging thick in the air. They turned towards the voice and saw a small boy standing uncertainly in the doorway of the cabin. He looked to be about two years old with a mop of dark blonde curls. Desmond turned automatically and walked over to pick the child up.

"It's okay Charlie," he said softly, "These are some friends of Daddy's."

Little Charlie looked at the small group with wide eyes, before burying his face into Desmond's shoulder.

Charlie was so stunned he forgot about fighting with Desmond. He didn't even notice when Desmond cautiously released him. Charlie stared as Desmond passed the young boy to Penny.

"Take him into the cabin," Desmond told Penny, "I need to talk with these guys."

Penny took the boy and walked back to the cabin, casting a last wondering glance back at Desmond.

Desmond gestured for Hurley, Sayid and Charlie to have a seat on deck.

Charlie was still gazing at Desmond in wonder.

"You named your son Charlie?" he asked quietly.

"I named him after you, brother," Desmond said. "It was the only name I'd consider."

Charlie was speechless.

Desmond pressed on, leaning towards Charlie and looking as though he was restraining himself from reaching out and touching him in an effort to convince himself that what he was seeing was real.

"How is this possible? How did you survive the Looking Glass?"

"I didn't," Charlie said.

Desmond looked as though Charlie had slapped him again. "How are you here then?"

Charlie shrugged. "Magical Island stuff?" he offered.

Desmond sat back in his seat, shaking his head, "But you're dead."

Sayid cleared his throat.

"Whether Charlie is dead or not is irrelevant."

"Hey," Charlie protested, "I take offense to that."

Hurley smiled to himself.

"The fact remains that he is here," Sayid continued. "We have more pressing matters to discuss."

"Like what?" Desmond asked, although he already knew what was coming. A feeling of dread settled over him.

Sayid fixed his eyes on Desmond.

"We need to talk about the Island."

Desmond returned his gaze for a moment, before dropping his eyes to the table before him. He sighed deeply.

"I think we're going to need something to drink."

"Finally," said Charlie. "I thought no one was ever going to ask."

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Well armed with whiskey, Desmond, Charlie, Sayid and Hurley sat down together to talk.

Desmond took a generous swig from his glass.

"I always knew that I'd run into you people again. Well, maybe not you." Desmond glanced at Charlie before continuing, "And I always knew it would be no accident."

Desmond turned his gaze to Sayid, "So what exactly is this about?"

Sayid rubbed a tired hand over his eyes.

"The people – all the people – that we left behind are in danger."

"This is all because we lied," Hurley said, looking downcast in his guilt. He looked around at the group. "We have to go back."

Charlie had already drained his glass.

"I have to find Claire," he said adamantly.

Sayid nodded, "I think so too."

They looked to Desmond. Desmond looked down into his drink.

"I can't," he said, shaking his head. "I won't. I'm not leaving Penny again. And little Charlie. I have a family now."

There was a silence.

Sayid sighed. "I don't like the situation either. But Ben says we have to go back. It's the only way to save the Island, and everyone on it."

"Why?" Desmond demanded angrily, banging a fist down on the table. "Why do we have to do anything?"

"Because we're not supposed to be here," Charlie said.

"You're not supposed to be anywhere," Desmond snapped, "You're dead, brother."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I _know_."

Hurley suddenly sat up straight in his chair, knocking his drink over in his excitement.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, "You're dead!"

Charlie raised his eyebrows, "Does anyone else want to point that out? 'Cause it's not creepy enough as it is."

"No!" Hurley leapt to his feet and began pacing, to everyone's bewilderment. "We have to go _back_. Not back to the Island, back in _time_! Dude!" He stopped pacing and looked at Charlie, "You're not supposed to be dead."

Charlie frowned uncertainly, "Does anyone know what he's talking about?"

Hurley shook his head impatiently, feeling as though his mind was figuring things out faster than his mouth could form the words.

"Desmond, Locke told me to tell you that Charlie is the only way back. You need to go back and save him! You need to go back and stop him from turning off the jamming equipment!"

Hurley stopped pacing and waited for his revelation to sink in.

Sayid looked skeptical but Charlie looked like he was considering the idea. Desmond's face was blank.

"It doesn't work like that."

"But it makes sense!" Hurley insisted, not put off by Desmond's lack of enthusiasm. "If Charlie never turned off the jamming equipment, the people on the freighter wouldn't have come. All those people wouldn't have died. We never would have got off the Island. You said the Island wanted Charlie dead – because it was trying to stop him from getting us rescued! Don't you see? We never should have left that Island!"

Sayid was shaking his head, "Why is it that I wasn't told about any of this?"

Hurley put a hand on Charlies shoulder, "Because Charlie is a hero. If he'd said that he was going down to the Looking Glass to die for us we would have stopped him.

Charlie looked down at his empty glass. "I'm not a hero then. I put everyone in danger by turning off the equipment."

"Oh shut up, you're a hero anyway," Hurley said dismissively. He turned back to Desmond, leaning on the table. "This will work. I know it will."

Desmond shook his head, "Hurley, I don't know how to time travel, and even if I did…"

Desmond gestured around his yacht. "I have a life, a family. You can't just tell me to give to give that up."

Anger flashed in Charlies eyes, "But it was okay for you to tell me that I had to give it up? That I had to leave Claire and Aaron and everyone? He's not even telling you that you had to die, the way you told me. He's asking you to save my life, to save everyone's lives."

Desmond paused. He slowly moved to refill his glass. A chance to save Charlies life. To not have to see Charlies face when he closed his eyes. To be free from nightmares of watching the young man drown, helpless on the other side of the door. To no longer have to live with the guilt of knowing that the hero had died while the coward lived. Even Penny and his own son were reminders of the blood on his hands. He got through his days by telling himself that there was nothing he could do now. That the past was the past and that Charlie was gone, to a place where Desmond could no longer help him. Try to forget.

Desmond thoughtfully twirled the ice around in his glass.

"But you're alive, Charlie," he said eventually. He looked to Hurley and Sayid. "You're all off the Island. Why don't you move on and forget about it? Why listen to Ben? When has he ever told the truth?"

Charlie shook his head in disgust, getting to his feet.

"What about Claire? What about everyone else? You're just going to leave them there?"

"Charlie-" Desmond started, but his words were cut short by a loud bang.

Charlie jerked slightly, a gasp escaping from his mouth. Slowly his eyes moved down to the crimson blood spreading over his shirt, then he dropped to the ground.

Sayid had fired off two retaliation shots before Hurley and Desmond had even had time to move. There was a splash as something or someone fell from the wharf into the water.

"Into the cabin!" Desmond cried, scrambling out of his chair and leading the way.

Sayid crouched down and pulled Charlie up, slinging him over his shoulder, before following Desmond quickly, Hurley behind him.

They got inside and Desmond slammed the door shut. He began piling things in front of it as a barricade.

"What's going on?" Penny cried, her eyes wide as she frantically tried to take in the situation, holding little Charlie close to her protectively.

"Someone's shooting at us!" Desmond exclaimed, abandoning his piling and stumbling over to a closet, clumsy with adrenaline. He opened it up and took out a small metal box. He unlocked it with a code and pulled out a small firearm, quickly loading the chamber with bullets.

"Oh my God," Penny gasped, one hand brought up to her mouth, as she caught sight of Sayid laying the young blonde boy down on the bed. Blood drenched Sayids shoulder and the boys t-shirt. It dribbled onto the clean sheets.

"Do you have medical equipment?" Sayid asked, his eyes meeting Penny's urgently.

"Yes," Penny said breathlessly, gesturing to the same closet Desmond had taken the gun from. "In the green box."

"Hurley," Sayid ordered, with no need to say anything else. Hurley was already moving.

Sayid turned his attention back to Charlie, ripping his t-shirt open. He recoiled slightly at the sight of the wound. The bullet had entered Charlies stomach, a few inches below his ribs, and exited through his back. Blood was pooling over the hole and steadily streaming down onto the bed

Sayid averted his eyes to Charlies face.

"Charlie? Charlie, can you hear me?"

Charlie turned his head slightly towards the voice, but his eyes stared through Sayid as if he couldn't see him, as if he was no longer seeing anything. Blood bubbled at the corners of his mouth.

Sayid bunched up some of the bed sheet and held it over the wound, cringing as he felt warm blood seep onto his fingers.

"Charlie?" Hurley asked, his eyes on Charlies face as he knelt down next to Sayid, placing the green box of medical supplies on the bed in front of him, receiving no response. He turned to Sayid apprehensively.

"You can fix this, right?"

Sayid didn't answer didn't answer for a moment as he exhaled softly, pressing his knuckles to his eyes.

"Sayid!" Hurley yelled, suddenly desperate for the assurance that he knew Sayid wouldn't be offering.

Sayid looked up. "No," he said softly, "I can't fix this. He needs a hospital."

"But there's guys with guns outside," Hurley pointed out helplessly.

The room was silent.

Hurley was still, staring down at Charlie. Then, drawing a breath, he pulled himself to his feet and turned to Desmond, who was standing by the door, watching the scene unfold, holding his gun deftly in his hand.

"You have to go back!" Hurley said desperately.

Desmond didn't move, his eyes fixed on Charlie.

"Damn it, Desmond, you have to go back!" Hurley yelled, "You can't just stand there and let him die!"

_Again_. Desmond heard the word in his head. Hurley was right. He couldn't do it again. Relive one of his biggest regrets, fail Charlie once more.

There was banging on the door to the cabin.

Sayid looked up at Desmond.

"Those people out there will kill everyone here," he warned, his eyes flicking to where Penny stood, cradling little Charlie against her chest.

Desmond turned to Penny, his eyes seeking hers desperately.

"Des…" Penny whispered, fear evident in her voice.

Desmond shook his head.

"I can't," he whispered, his eyes glistening. "I can't watch him die again."

Penny swallowed, and then nodded. She hugged little Charlie closer to her.

Desmond felt as though he were in a daze. He walked slowly to the bed but it felt like his feet barely touched the floor. He knelt down. Charlies eyes were closed now but Desmond could see his chest slowly rising and falling. Desmond felt time slipping away from him.

It was as if, somewhere deep inside him, Desmond knew what he had to do. He placed his hand on Charlie's chest and took a deep shuddering breath. He began to feel lightheaded as the room began to shift and glisten as if he were seeing it through a mist. The mist thickened until it began to build up into a bright white light. The banging on the door grew louder.

Desmond turned his head quickly for one last look at Penny and his son.

"I'll find you, Penny!" he promised, desperately ingraining her face into his memory once more. "I'll come back for you!"

He turned back to Charlie, and, just as he heard his barricade shoved aside, the white light burst in a blaze of blinding brilliance, and Desmond saw no more.

**A/N: Okay guys, we're nearly there. Just the epilogue to go now. I'll post it tomorrow if I get the chance. If not tomorrow, it'll be the next day.**


	6. Epilogue

**Destiny**

**Epilogue**

Desmond sat on the beach, watching the wave's crash against the shore. It seemed that he was destined to live out his days on this Island, but right at this moment, he was finding it hard to feel bitter. If he looked to his right, he would see Charlie, standing by the tent he shared with Claire, holding Aaron in his arms.

Only Desmond knew what a hero Charlie truly was. When they returned from their failed mission to turn off the jamming equipment no one had been in the mood to celebrate their safe return, too disappointed by yet another failed rescue attempt. No one felt the need to praise Charlie for his efforts, to thank him for risking his life for them.

Charlie just melted back into the group, his bravery unnoticed by anyone but Desmond.

"Did you have another flash?"

Desmond was shaken from his thoughts by Charlie. The young musician sat down on the sand next to him.

"What?" Desmond asked.

"In the Looking Glass," Charlie elaborated, absentmindedly twirling his DS ring around on his finger, "Did you have a flash? Is that why you stopped me from turning off the jammer? You said that it wouldn't work… Well, that's what I could make out anyway, you were raving like a bloody nutter."

Desmond looked out at the horizon. He imagined Penny out there somewhere, searching for him. He had found that as the days passed it became harder and harder to conjure up the image of his son, as if the universe was course correcting his memories. Maybe one day he would forget everything that had happened in the years after Charlie died in the Looking Glass. The years that he had erased from history.

Desmond was suddenly struck by how unjust this would be, for no one to ever know what Charlie had done for them.

Desmond turned to Charlie.

"It's a long story, brother, and you'll probably think I'm crazy."

Charlie grinned slightly.

"I already think you're crazy," he said cheekily.

Desmond grinned down at the sand, remembering how he had missed Charlies smartarse comments.

"Alright, brother," he said, "I'll tell you everything."

END

**A/N: Well, there you go. All finished. I hope the ending didn't disappoint everyone. I tried to write a chapter where Desmond actually saved Charlie in the Looking Glass, but there are so many fics with that in it that I couldn't find a way of doing it originally, so I decided to skip it. So, a few shout outs to reviewers:**

**BlackWolf1480** – Thanks for all the reviews! I also hate it when people write out of character so I try really hard to actually figure out how a certain character would be reacting in the situations that I put them in. Are you also holding out for a Charlie return in Season Six? I've got my fingers and toes crossed!

**WickedGal08** – Your reviews made me feel all fuzzy! I'm glad you liked the story. I love reading yours!

**Wicked Glamour** – Well, I hope the ending satisfied your addiction! Thanks for R&Ring!

**EasyButton, Lin_Hades, Girafe13** and **SN=love** – Thanks for reviewing! I know it's so easy to just ignore that review button, but I really appreciate reviews so I know what people think of my writing.

**And to anyone else who I've missed, or who's been reading this story without reviewing (but you're gonna review now, right? Pretty please?) thanks for sticking with it! You can expect more stories from me in the future. Bye bye for now!**


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